


Pertaining to a Brief Engagement

by hiddencait



Category: North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/pseuds/hiddencait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaret writes a letter to her cousin and contemplates the life she has chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pertaining to a Brief Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretricula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/gifts).



> Meretricula had an absolutely wonderful letter and it definitely helped inspire this little ficlet. Hopefully the period details came out the way I hoped they would when I started writing. Also, I tried for the period style of writing, but I have no idea if the long, descriptive sentences actually stayed as grammatical as I would have liked.
> 
> Also any errors are my fault - my dear friend and beta grav_ity has already gone over this once, but I went back and decided to change things. It's always possible I changed it for the worst. Oops?

_My dearest Edith,_

_By now Henry has arrived in London and informed you of my decision to return to Milton with John – Mr. Thornton, as you know him. I know this is not the ending you expected of my journey, but please trust that this truly is the only one I could have chosen. While I feel dreadful for disappointing Henry as I fear I must have, it can only have been Heaven’s intervention that led to meeting John at the train station as I did. I know I have in the past spoken harshly of John, but I have long since grown to know the true character of the man who I so mistakenly rejected. Yes, it is true – Mr. Thornton offered for me once before, but I rejected him. I have regretted that rejection almost since the moment I spoke it, though I hardly allowed myself to realize it for some time after. To say that my opinion has changed would to be a most grievous understatement. Truly, I have since realized that I can no longer imagine a life without him._

_I suppose all I can say is that you will be receiving an invitation soon – I do hope you and my aunt will be able to attend the wedding, though I know it will like take place in a near shameful haste. I simply do not wish to wait any longer to be his wife._

_Yours,_

_Margaret_

Margaret set her pen back in its stand and gently blew on her letter to dry the ink, a small smile on her lips as she finished. She laid it carefully on the desk to dry a little more and then turned her attention to the envelope she’d already addressed. She nodded to herself and then added a stamp with a little flourish. There was no chance to take back her words now – not now that a stamp had been paid for and affixed. Throwing the letter away now would be a dreadful waste of money. Not that she was lacking in funds anymore.

Sending the letter – well, that was the easiest way to guarantee that neither she nor John would dare to back out of the engagement. Her aunt might be scandalized by her behavior, but that didn’t mean she would hesitate to post the banns. It was the lesser evil to admit that her niece was engaged than it was to allow the story of Margaret riding off alone on a train with John to become public. And as far as breaking the engagement? Well, in the eyes of society, proceeding with a marriage was often more acceptable than being seen as a jilt, even if the circumstances of the marriage were some what less than desirable in the eyes of society. Margaret was not terribly concerned either way – she’d cared very little for society during her stay in London after her father’s death. She’d been completely honest when she’d told her aunt that. In some ways, it might be a relief for her to be slightly shunned for marrying a mere tradesman in such haste. Not that John could be considered “mere” anything. Not in her eyes.

She remained in her seat, but lifted her head to gaze out at the bustling view of the mill yard she could see through the window of the room Mrs. Thornton has grudgingly allotted to her upon her arrival back in Milton and her re-installation of the Thorntons in the grand home connected to Marlborough Mills. The whirlwind of Margaret and John’s re-appearance and sudden announcement that the mill would be re-opening within the month had set Milton all a-flutter. While tongues were most assuredly wagging away, their friends among the workers had offered nothing but congratulations at the news of both the business opening again and that of their engagement. Both she and John had been gratified by the support that had poured in from his former employees, some of whom had offered to work for a reduced wage while the mill was prepared to open again.

Moving Mrs. Thornton back into the townhouse had been the far more tumultuous than the work on the mill, frankly. To say her opinion of Margaret had not thawed was putting it lightly. Margaret could not blame her in the slightest. She had misjudged John in the worst of ways and wounded him on more than one occasion. It would be a poor mother indeed who welcomed such a future daughter-in-law with open arms. Margaret’s former behavior was only one of the strikes against her – her sudden wealth and standing grated against her mother-in-law’s pride, as well. That the building she again resided in now actually belonged to Margaret was clearly a bitter pill for Mrs. Thornton to swallow.

With that in mind, when faced with the diminutive bedroom Mrs. Thornton had felt “appropriate” for her, Margaret had simply held her tongue. And after all, though she had known not to mention the fact to the imperious lady, once the wedding took place, Margaret would have John’s set of rooms to share. That would suit her quite well. Allowing his mother to score a supposed point against her with the insult of a tiny room was nothing like a hardship. Margaret could be patient and hold her tongue if it kept an argument from occurring. Indeed, Margaret had decided she would simply have to begin again and win Mrs. Thornton over as she had been blessed to discover she had won over that lady’s son.

As if the thought had summoned him, Margaret heard the deliberate footsteps in the hall that she recognized as belonging to her John. He came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, looking out as she did at the enterprise that was to be their future once again. He sighed softly, and she turned to look up at him, gladdened by the soft smile that graced his lips. Those smiles were a reward she now knew she would do near anything to earn. To see a man so often stern and solemn smiling at her in such a way was a gift like none other. It warmed her to the core each time she caught him at it. The smile broadened across his face as if he’d heard her thoughts, but before she could tease him about it, he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple.

Margaret closed her eyes, both relishing the affection and railing at the restraint he’d shown. Granted, that restraint was necessary for the time being; propriety being what it was, they could hardly carry on as they had at the train station and on the journey home. Not only would it have scandalized all of Milton; such behavior would have likely turned Mrs. Thornton against their match once and for all. While Margaret would be marrying John no matter what the other woman thought of the matter, life after the wedding would be filled with far less strife if they avoided her wrath.

Margaret steeled her will and opened her eyes, smiling ruefully up at her beloved. John pressed another kiss to her temple and whispered “Soon.”

His tone hinted at an impatience that matched her own, and it made the wait almost bearable. She reached up to take one of the hands he’d rested against her shoulders and brought it to her lips once, then twice before releasing it with a smile, her face feeling as if she’d smiled more in the past few days than in all her life.

John regained hold of her hand and tugged at it gently. “Are you ready for luncheon? Mary’s made stew today.”

Margaret nodded and allowed him to draw her to her feet. She gave one last glance back to the piece of parchment she’d all but forgotten in her musings. There on the desk it still laid, ink now surely dry. She smiled softly and turned away to follow John down the hall to the stairs leading down to the mill yard and then into the small kitchen John had re-opened for the mill workers. Luncheon was guaranteed to be quite tasty, and it was always a pleasure to see Nicholas and Mary.

She could mail her letter later.


End file.
